Here There Be Dragons
by akheliades
Summary: [Friendship fic - 2nd chapter up!] Shatterstar comes across an unexpected reminder of his Arena days, and as usual, goes charging in. Read and review - if people like it, I might continue the series.
1. LateNight Misunderstandings

Chapter One: Late-Night Misunderstandings  
(or alternatively, "Here There Be Dragons")  
  
by: akheliades 

**Synopsis**: Shatterstar's nocturnal routine gets interrupted by a mysterious visitor, and a misunderstanding ensues concerning dragons.

Comments are welcome. Tell me what you think!

* * *

It was a fact that literacy did not present a problem for any of the residents of the Xavier Institute for Higher Learning. Many of them hailed from all parts of the world, and some from beyond. To be multi-lingual was the standard of the mutant teams, all of whom operated internationally; as per Professor Xavier's teachings, open communication was preferred over violence in settling conflict.

Well, ideally.

None of this could explain, however, why Shatterstar found himself outside an occupied Danger Room -- hearing but not adding to the sounds of battle and war. The situation reminded him a little of the waiting line for an airplane lavatory, and he did not care for them. There was one fundamental difference to this situation, however.

He read once more from the digital display next to the sliding doors of the Room, which currently refused to slide.

"**Shatterstar: Tuesday, 03:00 (am).**"

* * *

Something here was amiss. Someone had assumed his regular and rightful time-slot in that wonderful training room. Whether deliberate or not, this was at the very least a severe breach of etiquette amongst members of the X-Teams.

He had learned this fact very well, as he had inadvertently done this very thing once. It had led to an enraged Wolverine, some substantial combat damage to various parts of the mansion, a stern reprimand from his leader Cable, and a slightly asymmetric set of cracked ribs and bruises on his arms and body. Logan later apologized for his actions and in a rare gesture of good-will, took him to one of the local taverns for "a beer on him," which stretched to a pitcher or two as that evening went on.

Shatterstar was not one for beer or spirits, but accepted the kind gesture on the older man's part. He likened it to times before, where Viking warriors would share flasks of mead. In a rare fancy that night, he had wondered if it were possible that Logan had seen such time and ritual before, with his own eyes.

He had dismissed the idea immediately -- the man surely wasn't that old.

* * *

Since that misunderstanding, Shatterstar paid more respect to the protocols of the mansion residents. At the very least, it made for easier living: fewer reprimands and fewer cracked ribs. On the other hand, some human customs remained just as difficult to understand as before; he feared that to his own habit, they would always be so.

But this breach of conduct was uncalled for. It was rare that anyone would contend for training time with him; the last being Bishop, when both of them had vied for the mostly-unpopular Friday afternoon time-slot, and success or not, even that was done according to the mansion rules. If pressed, he could likely consider the current matter as some dishonor to his warrior code.

No one pressed, however, and he decided to reason the matter out. Few of his team-mates or X-Men, for that matter, would be active at this time of night. Of those that were, they more or less stuck to their own routines, as he did.

Logan would likely be on his usual solitary sojourn through the neighboring wooden areas, communing with the natural side of his temperament. He typically returned at day-break, none the worse for wear by his healing abilities, and more than ready for one of Cyclops' infamous early-morning workouts. Shatterstar could only admire the very stamina of that man.

LeBeau would likely be engaging in the local night life in nearby Manhattan. He too returned at dawn, a bit rumpled and fragrant and with a weaker jaunt in his step, yet he was still quite capable in the same morning workouts. Shatterstar disdained the man's personal habits, but could hardly fail to acknowledge those impromptu talents on the battlefield.

Bishop would be out for the second hour of his nightly patrols. There had been a time in the first days of X-Force's residence in the mansion, where he and Bishop shared a mutually unspoken challenge for practice and patrolling times. It was quickly settled after dozens of protests by their respective team-mates, and finally a futile impasse of blade and gun-barrel, much to their later embarrassment.

It was now custom for Shatterstar to spend a little time after his training session to speak with the time-displaced X-Man. They would sit over a blender-full of soy protein-fruit supplement and compare notes on security issues and possible improvements. If either felt somewhat nostalgic, they might even reminisce on how different their native worlds were to the 20th Century. Then it would be Bishop's turn at the Danger Room, before joining the rest of the X-Men for the aforementioned team workout.

Shatterstar then checked the time of night, and cursed silently. If he didn't start his programmed war sequence soon, he would have to finish later than usual. Then he wouldn't have enough time to explain to Bishop his plans for a topography hologram, which would facilitate motion-recording within the mansion's grounds.

He'd have to wait until noon before Bishop would be free for conversation. If he were not able to avoid Boomer and Jubilee that morning, he might be forced into indefinite exile to that great gulag of a shopping mall. He cringed. There was always the threat of mutant activity, too. Conversation with Bishop would be a moot point.

He hated changing his routine without very good reason.

* * *

Eyeing the keyboard controls near the display monitor, he walked over and adjusted to manual command. Soon his fingers began to fly over the keys, and just as quickly, lines of encrypted commands streamed across the screen. Shatterstar's eyes missed nothing, but he blinked on several occasions.

The Danger Room interface was already a non-trivial system to work with. Somehow someone had seized control. Not only was he successful in overriding the scheduling system, but had also adjusted the controls temporarily, so that any subsequent override was forbidden.

"He walks in and demands to use the facilities his way," Shatterstar remarked aloud. Rather arrogant, but he had been accused of the same, before. He had to give due credit to the hacker -- such things were hardly easy efforts.

It occurred to him that this wasn't one of the Institute's population of mutants; instead, there may be a dangerous infiltrator in their midst. Though their missions required them to be adept at handling computers, few of his team-mates had that level of skill, nor did many of the X-Men. Had it been one of the known users, he would surely have recognized the hacker style. The mansion identicator refused to offer an ID match; the intruder must have taken care of that, too.

But why the Danger Room? Despite the high-level of Shiar-based technology embedded within, it was all largely practical in the sense of simulations. The X-Men hardly used robotic-based opponents anymore, and the virtual reality constructors were very inefficient towards use in battle. He knew because his team had tried it once, during an MLF assault on the mansion; they were unsuccessful and to maintain the battle, they had to regroup quickly from those vested efforts.

Sending off several peripheral tasks, he checked the status of the other Mansion residents, and in seconds the report followed: no objective indication of compromised resident ability, physical injury, or even psionic control. A sweep of the systems left the network unhacked and running regularly. The part of him that was sensitive to magic gave none of those cryptic warnings that formed his Arena Warrior instinct.

There seemed to be no foul play at all.

That normal, human-like part of him would have decided that this was his own paranoia at work, perhaps from an overwhelming need to train and an induced rationale. He could withdraw instead: wait until morning to begin his training .. maybe with the X-Men themselves, as Cable had not scheduled a team session for the next day. He did mean to practice maneuvers with Bishop and Logan, and maybe study more the habits and strategies of the man called Gambit.

They would be happy to include him in their camaraderie, as they seemed to trust his intentions. He simply needed to be patient and choose to work on other things, such as spending the time in the machine lab. They were progressing along an experimental upgrade for Cerebro, including AI-components, after all, and much work was pending.

That train of thought lasted all but a few seconds, as he finally cracked into the protected override constructs. A few more key-strokes .. and he need only click the "Confirm" button on the final message box to gain entry to the Room. After that, he could confront the potential intruder, and even challenge him to battle.

* * *

His hand, however, was no longer resting on the touch pad, nor were his eyes upon the the screen. Instead, he peered at the pair of eyes trained on his own form, especially to his hands, which were easily reaching for his swords.

Shatterstar recognized it instantly: the wings and head were unmistakable to him, and painfully reminiscent. He hadn't seen one of them since his days in the Mojoworld arena, and he still bore the scar along his left shoulder, where one beast had tore at him with its claws.

He bettered it, savagely taking its head to the exulting audience. For a while he adorned his costume with circular patterns of its fangs around his neck and arms. Mojo had been cowardly that day; he sent a cunning creature to best him, rather than risk more of his dwindling troops against him and his Cadre.

The forthcoming dragons were less trouble, once Shatterstar gained skill at slaying them. But the strength and fluidity of the reptiles were unrivaled, and even the high-technology of the Mojo battle-droids could not contend with the fearsome capacity of the fully-grown beasts. The crowds realized this, too; the ratings soon became a standard benchmark for pilot success. They were respectable opponents, and having some degree of intelligence and capacity for communication, the dragons would nod carefully at their soon-to-be-slayer before the carnage would began.

This one was still far from fully-grown, but could still give a good fight. It did not stand tall, but shifted this way and that. Shatterstar remembered that dragons were occasionally known for their subterfuge, when threatened without ample advantage. He spoke plainly.

"Dragon-beast," he cautioned to the glowing eyes, "I know not what force brought you to Earth, but know that I will slay you for any harm by your cause. This I swear to my last breath."

He was sizing up the crouching reptile as he wondered whether it had possibly lain a brood of eggs somewhere in the mansion. _A catastrophe!_ How did he and Bishop miss such a thing, or anyone else, for the matter?

The beast snarled a small gust of flame and soot, as it tensed to strike. Shatterstar did the same, considering all manners of counters .. and then it happened.

* * *

The dragon did not attack. It suddenly sprawled back and above, as Shatterstar hastily executed a charge and missed. It flew and rested near the display console, and with a touch of its tail, it nudged the touch pad before flapping hastily through the now-open doors of the Danger Room.

"Clever creature," thought Shatterstar, as he followed in pursuit. By this time his blades were unsheathed, gleaming dangerously as he ran through the breach ..

.. and prompted sliced into a howling Hand ninja in the humid Tokyo night. A dozen more of his comrades sought vengeance and flew towards Shatterstar; a few deft strokes later, they joined the first ninja and sunk to the ground, never to rise again. Shatterstar then scanned the vicinity for the winged reptile.

These were wily creatures, able to change in size and demeanor. _They were not to be trusted or tolerated to live._ Soon it became very difficult to continue the search, as his attention was diverted. Throngs and waves of the Hand surged upon him; fosterlings of the Danger Room constructs, no doubt.

As much as he reveled in carnage and the challenge of the hunt, Shatterstar accepted the priority in the situation. He left his blade floating in the chest of a fallen ninja for a split-second and activated an electronic beacon to Bishop and the Mansion's systems. He was about to issue a command to the Room to stop its machinations, when suddenly another voice called out. No more of the suicidal Hand advanced upon him ..

.. only the bare metal ground, and the head of that elusive dragon, hidden behind a single human. _Cowardly, wily creature!_

* * *

The human in question was a brown-haired young woman, possibly younger than some of his own team-mates. She stood very still, with her arms crossed over her chest. Though largely incapable of human emotion, Shatterstar was adept at recognizing it in others.

He eyed the 'X' motif on her uniform. _Was this a new recruit of Xavier's? Hardly an intruder, then._ By any reckoning, this was a determined, possibly angry girl, undoubted a mutant or metahuman, if she chose the Danger Room for its activities. He would have to be careful. This was the talented hacker who had called forth the ninjas -- whether for training or for distraction, he couldn't be sure. Like him, she had power and will over this environment.

Had he been the dragon, he supposed that he too would have more likely attempted subterfuge towards such an enemy. Likely it would be an unexpected ambush after gaining her confidence and trust, as some gentle thing. Human affection could be disadvantageous, at times.

But Shatterstar was not at all a dragon, however avian his body structure. He preferred to explain himself to this .. stranger and extract the alien in a straight-forward way. This was not too unreasonable, and considering the wide berth given to her already, she could only but agree.

His eyes met hers. Her gaze hardened. He continued, regardless. 

"Miss, I require you to relinquish the alien creature to me. It is a danger to the people of this place."

He sheathed one of his blades, and offered his outstretched hand to gesture his intent. Calling the computer, a cage materialized to his left. He had not expected the forthcoming reaction.

The young woman was shocked, and very clearly angry -- her cheeks were flushed. She stroked the creature protectively as she answered.

"I beg your pardon?"

He noted the forced calm in her tone, and was suddenly reminded of Jubilee before one of her notorious outbursts. Was he unclear as to what he meant to say?

"The creature, Miss. It is ..."

"... Mine," she finished. "Lockheed? What do you mean, 'dangerous?' And what are you doing here, anyway? I was in the middle of a training session, you know."

She waved her hand, and the cage disappeared.

Shatterstar blinked. His sense of hearing was far more acute than the typical human, and he could not have been mistaken. _The girl could be somewhat delusional._

"Miss ..."

"My name is Kitty, or Shadowcat on the field."

"Katherine Pryde?" He recognized the name, faintly. "I have heard of you as Ariel or Sprite, from the Cerebro archives." The original X-Men began as adolescents, true, but he had thought it an anomaly early in the team's creation. Evidently he was wrong.

"Must have been an old file. Forge was never good at updating the records."

"Forge is now affiliated with X-Factor."

"Yes, I know. But you -- I don't know you, and you never answered my question."

* * *

She was trying his patience. _First things first,_ he supposed, and wondered how that came to be an English expression. _First things are meant to be first .._

"I am Shatterstar of X-Force, formerly the New Mutants ..."

Her eyes perked up, hearing the last words.

".. and firstly, the creature you would call 'Pet' is a known ravager of village and killer of sentients. Do not mistake the affectionate behavior of this species for good nature -- they are dangerous and treacherous beings, full of guile."

He was about to step closer, if not for the disbelief upon the former X-Man's expression. If he hadn't known better, she apparently too the news towards her 'pet' at a personal level. _Curse you, dragon!_ In a moment of fury, he growled at the reptile as it scurried behind the girl, now completely hidden from his line of sight. She only became more outraged.

This was not going well at all.

"I think I would know enough about my companions to trust them not to deceive me," she emphasized. She then hugged the reptile behind her back, as if emphasizing that the beast was under her protection.

* * *

Peace and negotiation were not strong points in Shatterstar's character. Had they been in Mojoworld, he would be free to issue a warrior's challenge, and after gaining victory, he would be free to exercise his decision on the matter. _But 20th Century humans conducted their actions far differently, and in such overly cumbersome methods!_

Talk and reason were fine things, but agreement was a difficult position -- not easily wrought through by strong-minded people, but through mere words or gentle deliberations. Direct contentions would be futile maneuvers, and for the advocate strong in the belief of his cause, he must resort to subterfuge and lesser means to succeed.

The intricacy of debate frustrated Shatterstar; he was poor at these wordy feints and sleights-of-hand. When the rebellion succeeds and Mojo shall be overthrown, there would be need for eloquence in the haggling of new laws and public order. It would be a great problem for his people, even him. Despite his years-long exposure to human society, he was far from expert in these rhetorics.

He had to continue trying. Cable, his commander, would demand it of him, as they were guests in the mansion and would live by the rules of their hosts. _Protocols. There are always protocols._

* * *

He sighed.

"I mean neither insult nor aspersion, Pryde," he began, "but you must accede the creature to me. I have vowed it mortal harm, should it dare cause us ill will or injury."

He smiled. _Surely she also knows of the warrior's ways, and would recognize a solemn vow .. _ This could work.

She opened her mouth, sputtered a few syllables, then shut it without a word. _Did I just hear him right?_ she thought to herself, still feeling the folds of the reptile's skin. _Did he just threaten to kill Lockheed?_

Perhaps it wouldn't work, after all.

"This is insane! Everyone here knows Lockheed! Even the Professor approved of him ... look, I don't know where you're from or what stories you've read, but trust me. This dragon wouldn't harm a fly."

"Dragons cannot be trusted."

"Neither can sword-wielding maniacs that barge into other people's training sessions, evidently."

* * *

That was a slight, if he ever heard one! He was a warrior of the Cadre Alliance! No one accused him of lies without facing consequence, by native custom. His blood surged, beckoning to spill hers. His hand grasped the free hilt of his second sword.

"You would accuse me of lying?"

It was Kitty's turn to take a deep breath, albeit a bit cautiously, as she didn't want to cause alarm to the other mutant. She could recognize a warrior's stance; in a childhood spent with Logan and the other X-Men, it was survival training.

She looked at him carefully, and suddenly, without reason, he reminded her of Longshot. Kitty then wished that he had some of that man's charm and empathy in him, right then, rather than what seemed a burning rage. _I was only defending my friend -- you'd think he would understand loyalty._ She had a mind to summon restraints on the man, but it would be pointless. He would simply remove them.

But Longshot was also quick to anger; she could remember quite a few heated arguments between him and Alison. _He often valued something about honor, much like Logan would, but an alien one_ .. and then she gasped at a sudden small, but needful realization.

She was attacking him. Perhaps it was not by sword to throat or energy blast to body center, but something more dear to him. _.. Should it dare cause us ill will or injury,_ her photographic memory recalled.

* * *

Kitty eyed the crouching swordsman. She stood tall and straight, spreading her arms away from her body, and allowing her body open to attack -- a gesture of peace. Shatterstar recalled a **kempo** flowing technique of some similarity, but decided to stay his hand. He could always attack if necessary.

"I'm not accusing anyone of anything," she emphasized. "Shatterstar, this dragon is Lockheed, and he's been my constant companion, almost as long as I've been an X-Man. I was just a kid when we first met, and if he wouldn't hurt a child then, he won't attack a well-coordinated team of mutants today."

She offered warm eyes to the emerging dragon, then to the young man.

"Lockheed is my friend, and we've taken good care of each other. Will you trust me about him?"

Lockheed then looked up and stared levelly at Shatterstar, but nothing more lay in its glowing eyes.

* * *

He had to admit that the girl had conviction, and from his own experience, he recalled the habits of dragons. For their cunning, they were terribly impatient creatures, and incapable of long-term planning. She would have died years ago, had the dragon truly wished her death.

Perhaps she had tamed it, in its youth? _It was not impossible_, he admitted. Slowly he released his anger figuratively into his surroundings. That meditation lesson, once given by the X-Men leader Storm and his attendance enforced by Cable, had not been in vain after all.

He sheathed his swords and relaxed, or as much as a warrior could relax without compromising his guard.

"Forgive me if I have been too insistent in my warnings, and my demands. My experience with dragons has not been as kind as your, it seems."

He paused for a moment, as if confirm his course of action.

"I will accede to your wishes, and trust this creature ... for now."

Kitty nodded, as a tense moment passed in tangled silence between X-Man, X-Forcer, and dragon. But as quiet moments go in the mansion, it was short-lived.

* * *

Sudden alarms caught their attention to the doors, once more. They slid open, pouring forth Scott Summers in boxers with little red hearts, barking orders around a half-dressed team of mutants on the ready. Bishop's gun-sights pointed true, as did a Cable with "bed-head." A glowing Ororo Munroe hovered ready in mid-air.

Shatterstar had already surged to the offensive with open blades, as Lockheed readied to pounce. In the corner of his eye he saw Kitty Pryde in a ready stance, having summoned a blade from the Danger Room generators. The sight, as slim as it was, pleased him to no end, for some reason.

His momentum, however, did not, as it was sending him towards an equally accelerating and battle-ready Logan.

The sudden entry had not been a good idea.

The mid-air impact neared .. but never came. He blinked, as did Logan. It was then that each of them noticed that the other took on an abnormal shade of pink ..

Shatterstar turned to see Cable lower him to the ground in a telekinetic bubble, as Jean Grey did the same with his would-be opponent. By then everyone had powered down and collected themselves, with the element of surprise dwindling to nought. Kitty Pryde had dispelled her blade, and Bishop and Cable holstered his firearm.

"Katherine ... and Shatterstar," called Professor Xavier, as his hover-chair floated to the center of the crowd, "Would you care to explain what transpired here?"

* * *

The older man looked inquiringly at the young warrior, and next, to his former student. A momentary thought occurred to Kitty as she looked from the Professor to Cable .. that the Professor never had to worry about "bed-head." A few of the resident telepaths burst out in laughter, as did the Professor. The others looked nonplussed, and Cable managed a reddened half-smile before turning to his own charge.

"Shatterstar: a report, now."

Shatterstar was already poised in military posture -- how he switched stances so quickly amazed even the battle-hardened Domino. Bishop nodded, and wondered how far the young man would have gone in the X.S.E. _Then again, he does have quite a few rash tendencies .._

"Sir: a misunderstanding occurred, nothing more. I may have over-acted towards a mistaken belligerent."

Cable raised his eyebrow as the alien warrior tilted his head to the side, to Kitty Pryde. Lockheed was draped along her shoulders, having drifted to a nap when the excitement passed. She shrugged lightly.

"Just a misunderstanding, guys."

Some of the collected mutants exchanged wary looks; others shared bemused expressions. One voice, however, caught everyone's attention.

"C'mon people -- no blood, no foul," yawned Jubilee. "Hey Pryde, how are ya?"

Kitty grinned. "Jet lag with a vengeance, Jubes, but otherwise I'm good. You?"

"Been better, been worse."

The teenage X-Man looked to her older team-mates, and continued.

"All right, I've seen enough. Gonna hit the hay now, 'kay guys? Nice to see ya again, Pryde." 

Kitty grinned again towards the already-departing teen.

"'Night, Jubes."

What appeared to be a hand shot up in the distance, and waved back casually. It flew down and moved into the corridor and into the wing of bedrooms, along with its owner. Then Kitty gave a level look at the remaining mutants, who suddenly realized how truly tired they were. It wasn't easy being a mutant, these days.

* * *

"I suppose questions can wait until morning," Cable said, absently smoothing out his "bed-head" with his gun-free hand. He smiled at Domino. Shatterstar made a note of it, but said nothing; he may consider himself brave in battle, but hardly suicidal.

"Agreed, Nathan. I trust that everything is well for the moment," added Xavier, as he fiddled with reversing his hover-chair.

"All right, then, people," announced Cyclops, "We might as well get some rest before tomorrow's session, which is in .."

He peered at his blue-tinted wristwatch, which unnerved Kitty. _Only "Boss-Man" would wear a watch to sleep,_ she sighed.

"Three hours or so," he finished.

A chorus of groans followed the retreating band of mutants. A moment later the Danger Room was empty, except for the earlier three inhabitants.

* * *

Kitty looked at Lockheed.

"I suppose I should put him to bed. It is a bit late over here, after all."

Shatterstar nodded. "I should run through a training sequence before Bishop demands his turn, yet."

She gave him a lop-sided grin, and realized something.

"It was your time-slot, wasn't it?"

He nodded.

"I'm really sorry. If I'd known you were waiting ..."

"It is of little consequence. I've been told I could do with more patience."

She gave a reassuring smile, and then looked thoughtful for a moment.

"You know, the last time I saw a 3 am workout on the master schedule, it had been Rogue who'd misread the am part ..." She stopped, as Shatterstar wasn't laughing, but rather impassive.

"Julio makes that mistake, on occasion. He doesn't wish to train with me, however."

"Rictor? I haven't seen him or the old gang in ages. Still with the long hair?"

"Yes."

The lop-sided grin returned, and she patted a sleepy Lockheed on the back.

"Well, the Danger Room is yours, Shatterstar. I'm sorry I was a bother."

"Do not be. I have my own mistakes to admit, on the matter."

She shrugged, which caused the slumbering dragon to grumble. _Let sleeping dragons lie_, she murmured to herself. Turning gently, she headed for the doors.

* * *

Shatterstar watched her: a young woman and an X-Man, a hacker and an occasional incendiary, a compassionate operative and friend to many, she seemed. He wondered how they would fare in combat together, and dismissed the idea.

He re-drew his swords with practiced caution, as he cleared his mind for the oncoming exercise. But a thought occurred to him, and he called to her.

"Pryde?"

She stopped and turned her head slowly, as not to disturb her resting companion.

"How did you manage to gain access to the Danger Room controls?"

She smiled.

"I wrote the interface programs, and kept a spare password in case I came back and wanted a work-out. Nice hacking job, by the way."

He nodded, and she sauntered out, the doors sliding behind her. It had been an interesting night, so far.

"Computer! Begin sequence gamma-three-nine-zeta. High-intensity Level Eighty-Seven, authorization: Gaveedra G7."

Several Sentinels appeared amidst the ruins of a 25st Century city, and advanced towards the smaller figure. Shatterstar would have his battle at last. He gave a rare grin and dove an energy blast, then rushed to meet the enormous androids.

The familiar sounds of battle soon echoed along the Danger Room walls and through the night.

-- -- _**fin**_ -- -- 


	2. Morning Conversations

Chapter Two: Morning Conversations  
  
by akheliades 

**Synopsis**: day-to-day interactions between the mutants of the X-Mansion, including peach vs. guava juice, and how cereal bowls remain unwashed.

Comments are welcome. Tell me what you think!

* * *

The sword blade wasn't long enough to decapitate the Sentinel; he had to content himself with slicing its android throat and where would have been a windpipe and larynx. Instead of spilling blood, he saw the unwrought metal and wire, swaying in the frizzle of sparks and burnt circuits.

He then proceeded to stab it in the "eye" for good measure. The light from the optic sensor faded. It would do, for now.

"Computer: end program. List combat statistics: Gaveedra G7, time-stamp and save under X-Force Archive."

He did it out of habit; there wasn't much the computer tallies could tell him that his warrior instincts could not assess on the battlefield. It was a matter of posterity, really. He would leave the training information within the team database, and just in case his leader wished to examine his progress, he could do so easily. To his knowledge, Cable never did so, but Shatterstar saved the data, anyways.

The computer had plenty of memory for storage.

Reality faded around him, leaving him amidst gleaming, reinforced dura-steel walls. There were no more threats or dangers. Only then would he sheath his swords and walk towards the doors. They slid and revealed a waiting X-Man.

"Bishop." Shatterstar said without preamble.

"Shatterstar. Good session?"

The alien warrior nodded, and began to walk towards the locker room. He took off his helm as he did so. Bishop followed the X-Forcer, as was their custom. He counted two new scratches near the left temple, but kept it to himself. _Best not to irritate that perfectionist of an alien_, he surmised.

"A shorter session than usual," Shatterstar stated, as he pulled the catch-handle and pried open the metal door to his locker. It would not do to slice it open; he had been reprimanded for that before, after a rare Danger Room session had gone poorly for him. 

"There should not be a problem. The sequence can easily extend its duration," Bishop remarked, as Shatterstar loosened his shoulder armor and peeled off his damp uniform top. "I added a few features: quicker data calling and several non-linear learning algorithms, so it can change tactics for greater challenges."

He grinned, and so did Shatterstar.

"I look forward to these meetings," Shatterstar said simply, "and I can always destroy your machinations another time." He unraveled the laces of his boots. It was not too promising, for even Mojoworld-fashioned and X-Men-redesigned footwear could do nothing against soaked shoelaces.

"Perhaps." He handed Shatterstar a deodorant bar. The alien returned with a quizzical look, but took it anyway.

"Trust me: you are in need of it. It would be poor preparation to be given away to the enemy, solely by bad smell." The smirk returned.

"I see that you have learned more humor from your team-mates," he said drily, all the while applying it liberally under his arms.

"A little. They find it disconcerting when I make a joke," Bishop confessed. "You know something of sarcasm, I see."

"It can be useful at times." He fished around the metal box for .. _what were they called? .. those popular blue denim pants. There is a colloquial term for them that is universally common_. Shrugging mentally, he seized them and balanced easily on one foot while putting one leg in. He leapt, and the other leg snugly fit itself to his body.

"Graceful," Bishop commented, leaning along another row of lockers.

"I try my best." He buttoned and tightened the belt. "I admit that my teammates also worry when I joke, but I believe it is good for them."

"And what would this benefit be?"

"It teaches them caution and encourages flexibility," he pondered, as he fished around the locker for his grey Xaviers T-shirt. "My teammates are still young, and require more training."

"Training is important. I remember drilling soldiers that were five years their junior."

"I remember slaying fully-grown dragons at that age," mused the the off-worlder. The laces on his sneakers were much easier to manipulate than those sodden boots.

Bishop blinked. "Your teammates are right. You are disconcerting when you joke."

"That was not a joke." He looked up from his shoes to a disbelieving X-Man, and shrugged. "Mojoworld is a diverse reality."

"I can only imagine."

* * *

Shatterstar threw his uniform into the communal laundry bag, and taking his blades by their scabbards, he followed Bishop to one of the many kitchens on the premises. As Bishop sat at the table and withdrew his guns for cleaning and reloading, he browsed through the refridgerator.

"Odd .. no soy-protein left. Peach mango juice, or guava melon?"

"Guava. It is not as sickeningly sweet."

"Quite a choice of words. Do they truly differ so greatly?"

Bishop looked up.

"Shatterstar, I grew up on nutrition paste and dehydrated food matter. Taste was hardly a main concern for us." He returned to the task of dismantling his plasma rifle. "The foodstuffs of this era all seem exotic to me."

"Try gladiator rations," Shatterstar replied, shutting the door with his foot, as he had seen Rictor do when similarly having his hands occupied. _A good tactic_, he thought. 

"Occasionally our performance in the Arena warranted better food, and a few times we even dined as guests of some dignitary. We chewed and swallowed and were polite, but on the whole, we would gratefully return to simpler fare the same evening, as was our custom."

He poured a glass for Bishop, and then another for himself. He then took a long drink, and appeared thoughtful.

"You are right. This is milder than the peach."

Bishop shrugged. "There's always more of it left. The others do prefer the sweeter blend."

"Then there is more remaining for us, then," he said, refilling his glass. He then stole one of Bishop's oiled rags and unsheathing one blade, began to work on perfecting its shine. Absently he began to discuss his idea of using topographical holography for motion sensors, which were juxtaposed by Bishop's own suggestions about the implementation.

"Summers would never allow a breach of privacy of that sort," pointed out Shatterstar. "It would not matter if every resident of the Mansion approved. That man is ironically and unnaturally stubborn when it comes to personal discretion."

"One of many men," Bishop admitted. "It must be a trait of these times. However, there is always the threat of entry from bedroom windows. And how would you compensate for the selective sensitivity around common areas, otherwise? Such a thing would not be easily overcome, not even with the advanced computer support aiding in our planning."

"I might know of a few methods by hardware mainlining, and bedroom security would be disturbed for only a day or so, each. Do you know anyone with the right software skills?"

"Forge is unavailable, but Shadowcat is visiting. She could be persuaded," Bishop suggested. He looked over to his companion, curious.

Shatterstar's expression was unreadable. He tilted the blade to examine the reflection. "How would you rate her abilities?"

"She has an expert knowledge of systems and programming. I remember that she designed the Danger Room interface, as well as having lent her aid to Professor Xavier with some of the preliminary groundwork for Cerebro II. These are indeed formidable tasks."

"I have heard a few things, as well. She can be trusted?"

"Unshakeable loyalty. She is one of the X-Men of the Second Generation, and has stood with Xavier's cause for years."

Shatterstar stopped his polishing. "Not a single doubt, Bishop? This must be new to you." He managed a grin of his own.

Bishop glared. "There are always doubts, but fewer here with this one."

Neither said a word for a few moments.

"She seemed capable of disabling first-echelon Hand ninjas," Shatterstar remarked. "It was without the benefit of her mutant powers, I suspect. Is it common prowess for X-Men?"

"She was trained by Logan." Shatterstar then looked at his friend, and could have sworn he saw a smirk in the larger man's face.

"That was not in her records," he replied. "She sounds a worthy adversary."

"Keeping tabs on her, I see. Are you and her adversaries, then?"

"She."

"What did you say?" Bishop set down his gun, and looked at Shatterstar. "I don't understand your meaning."

"'Are you and she' is correct, not 'Are you and her'."

"You are improving your English. I had not known that television would bother with such a difference in grammar."

"You are improving your humor."

"And you are avoiding the question."

"I have not. But if you care for an answer, then the answer is no. We are not adversaries."

"Then what are you?"

"I am a gladiator-turned-political dissident-turned-X-Force-member. She is an X-Man-turned-Excalibur affiliate. I had thought that was obvious."

"That much I observed."

Shatterstar could swear that had he looked up, he would catch Bishop with one of those secret smirks. He was about to reply when Gambit walked somewhat steadily into the kitchen, smelling of smoke and the autumn wind. He was met by twin glares and a table of weapons, shiny and quickly accessible to hand.

"Remind me t' not catch bot' of you by surprise," the Cajun grinned, heading for the cabinet for a glass. Filling it from the faucet tap, he took a sip and looked back at the pair.

"Not a kind sight t' see readily-armed hommes so early in de mornin," he commented, "Makes a perfe'tly innocent boy like me worry for my life." He leaned next to the stove, still examining the two.

"And you would be the epitome of innocence, LeBeau?" Bishop challenged.

"Mebbe I be, mebbe not," Remy replied, taking another sip of water. "Don' ask de chat **1** why 'e smiles, non?"

[ **1 French for 'cat'** ]

This time the silence was deafening. Shatterstar sighed inwardly. Bishop was always more belligerent when the Cajun X-Man was concerned. The rare smirking and good humor would vanish completely, and there would be no more joy in continuing the conversation. _At least we did manage to discuss that topography idea._ His thoughts then turned to Kitty Pryde, and wondered if she would care to work on her time away from duty.

"Som'ting on your mind, 'Etoile **2** ?"

[ **2 French for 'star'** ]

Gambit's voice startled him a little, breaking his concentration. _That should not have happened_, he told himself sharply. He gazed at the X-Man.

"Implementation issues on security, LeBeau. Thank you for asking, however."

The X-Man raised an eyebrow. Bishop continued to glare, making sure to direct the empty gun-point towards the standing man. Shatterstar sighed again, mentally -- neither of them would back down. They were stubborn men. For an instant, he wondered if his teammates felt the same way about him and his habits, but quickly set aside the idea as silly and meaningless.

_I couldn't possibly appear that fanatical._

"There are matters I should attend to," Shatterstar said, getting up and sheathing his blades. "Have a good session, LeBeau."

"Bishop," he nodded to his friend.

Bishop nodded back, as the X-Forcer moved towards the still-dark hallway.

"What matters could de boy 'ave t' worry about? Read up on de latest TV Guide? Split ends?"

The time-displaced X-Man never stopped his glare as he rose and moved to the Danger Room.

"Som'ting I said?" Gambit said, grinning like the cat he had alluded to before. Bishop stopped to glare once more, and then left him alone to the kitchen.

Sometimes that man really got on his nerves.

* * *

The clock read 5:30, and try as she might, she could not return to that happy land of dreams. She yawned and stretched, trying to work the kinks out from last night's workout. It wasn't working -- too many consecutive hours of waking, and too many ninjas to put down for the count. _Damned ninjas .. can't live with 'em, can't beat 'em all up._

It was true. Logan had written the program and all its levels, after all, and even Psylocke hadn't beaten it yet.

Perhaps she would cajole Storm for a back-rub later, or maybe Jubilee. Kitty then stopped and realized that by asking either of them, then very likely Gambit would overhear somehow and she'd have to deal with his own sultry offers to perform the deed himself. _Sometimes that man is incorrigible._ Then she snickered, imagining a jealous Rogue pummeling the charm out of the Cajun. _That'd teach him._

Kitty slipped quietly over a dozing Lockheed and across the hallway, tiptoeing on sock-covered feet to see if the Gen-X'er, Jubilee, was awake. Loud snores answered her, as she opened the door a crack and peered in. She could make out a leg from under the covers, a corner of a black Limp Bizkit T-shirt, and maybe a hand; nothing conclusive, however, except for a half-coherent mumble about the Care Bears leaving her Sugar Bombs alone.

She sighed, and resigned to wait until later to talk with the teen. Maybe a morning back rub and some old-fashioned girl-talk were too much to ask for, this early in the day. Descending the stairs, Kitty passed a Gambit reeking of smoke, and phasing to her intangible form, she glided through the remaining floors of the Mansion and settled precisely on one of the free chairs surrounding the kitchen table. Some of the X-Men then jumped a little at the sudden appearance, followed by a few others laughing at their expense.

_Score_, grinned Kitty. No matter where her life would lead, the Mansion would always be home. She then solidified, replied to a score or so of "Good Mornings," and moved to the cabinets, scouring for something good to eat.

"All right! Sugar Bombs!" Kitty exclaimed, "I love this stuff!" She then proceeded to raid the fridge .. past the empty whole milk carton, then skim and more skim .. and finally, to the 1% milk carton.

"Coffee for me, sugah for you, sugah," Rogue quipped, taking a sip from her mug. A few of the X-Men groaned, as Rogue snapped, "Hey! Ah can be funny too, y'all .."

"Kitty, are you sure you don't want any eggs? Pancakes?" Jean asked, turning a little from the stove.

"Nah, thanks Jean. I'm good," Kitty replied, sitting down before a bowl and spoon, and then realizing that the milk carton was suddenly frozen solid.

"Bobby!" His bowl of Sugar Bombs sat finished on the table, but the man was nowhere to be found. They did hear the boyish snicker and the stampede of footsteps up the flights of stairs, however.

"Arrrrrrrrrgh!!!"

"Want me to hunt down his sorry ass for ya, Darlin'?" offered Logan, sipping from his own coffee. Storm shuddered, wondering how he could drink such a strong blend without the aid or cream or sugar. He only winked, and Storm simply shook her head and returned to her herbal tea.

"Nah .. just kick his ass in the Danger Room, will you?" Kitty said from behind the fridge. "Crap! That was the last one! There's only skim left!"

"What's wrong with skim milk?" Jean asked, flipping another pancake.

"It's tantamount to white-colored water!"

Kitty poked her head out. "We don't have any heat dispellers on the team now, do we, Professor?" she asked hopefully.

The Professor managed a small grin, and shook his head.

"Darn it." She looked again into the fridge, and wondered how much skim milk she would have to add for any milk taste at all ..

A sudden cry of "Aaaaaaaah! I'll get you for this, ya damned Popsicle!!!!" and maniacal laughter from the upper floors turned the heads of everyone in the kitchen.

"Could it be our most comedic and sangfroid compatriot Bobby?" Hank asked, looking up from the paper. Xavier shook his head, as everyone else wondered what sangfroid meant.

"Wonder what happened ta Jubilee," Rogue thought out loud.

A mostly-unmanly shriek erupted from a similar origin, followed by "Ha! Gotcha back, ya overgrown, sorry-excuse-for-an-ice-cube! Nobody messes with the super-awesome-and-always-rad-and-stylin Jubes!"

"Little Firecracker's been putting on airs, hasn't she?" laughed Logan.

"She's no longer little, Logan," Storm amended. Logan sighed, and nodded.

"I bet he pantsed him. I would have." Kitty then sighed and cautiously brought out the skim milk. "Then again, I suppose it would be 'trouser'ed, back in England .." _In England, they wouldn't bother with this 1% milk, either_ ..

She poured the bare amount of milk to cover the cereal, and attempted a taste. Fortunately, Sugar Bombs were laced with their namesake ingredient, and the now sugar-watery skim was just tolerable. Kitty presently began to eat with more fervor.

* * *

A grouchy Jubilee then entered the kitchen, shivering slightly. The other X-Men looked at her warily.

"Iced sheets .. wedgied, then pantsed," she explained. Everyone then nodded, pitied Bobby, and Jean prompted began to prepare a cup of hot cocoa for the shivering Gen-X'er.

She then sat down next to Kitty, and pushed her bowl towards the older girl. Between munches, Kitty poured the precious cereal into the bowl. Jubilee then made the motion for pouring, and Kitty pointed to the carton. The other X-Men looked on with interest.

"Crap! Skim?" Jubilee groaned. Kitty nodded, and swallowed.

"It's not so bad, really."

Jubilee eyed the carton carefully, as if it would make sudden moves.

"Try it. Es fyne," Kitty added, taking another spoonful and chewing. "Woud ie bee eateeng fvis overwise?"

"Ya got a point there, Pryde." Doing a similar measurement with the milk, Jubilee made a small taste, and realizing it was safe, started devouring the contents of the bowl.

The X-Men continued looking on, wide-eyed.

"Wow. Ah've never seen her do it," Rogue said. "I mean, it's skim .."

"For the last time, what is wrong with skim, people!" Cyclops demanded. "It's just as nutritious as regular milk, but without all the fat! It's very healthy! Good for you!"

Nobody was willing to answer. Cyclops sighed, and returned to his cup of coffee.

"It tastes like crap," grumbled a grouchy Cable, as he proceeded into the kitchen and poured the remaining coffee from the pot into his extra-large "Touch-This-and-I'll-Shoot-You-...-Really" mug. He took a few gulps and instantly felt better. Even Bobby Drake wouldn't dare mess with that cup, especially after a cryptic warning from Domino, who cited G.W. Bridge and 'on pain of death.' He later dubbed it 'the Holy Grail of Pranks,' and would stare wistfully at it on an occasional morning.

"Thank you, Nathan," retorted Cyclops. He looked at his wristwatch. "Ten minutes, people." Collective groans followed suit.

"Anyone want the last pancake?" offered Jean. A furry hand was raised, and the pancake then floated to Hank's plate.

"My most indubitable thanks, dear Jean."

"You're very welcome, Henry."

Most of the X-Men then began to float towards the Danger Room. Jean Grey gave Jubilee her hot cocoa, and excused herself to switch into uniform. Beast then got up and rinsed his plate, and then decided to check in the lab just before session. Cyclops moved to the Room to double-check the program parameters, as Cable and the Professor took the more relaxed route and slowly finished their coffee.

Kitty and Jubilee simply went for thirds, each watching the other for any sudden moves towards the diminishing box of Sugar Bombs.

* * *

"So, Kitty," began the Professor, "What did transpire in the Danger Room, last night?"

"I'm a bit curious myself," added Cable.

Kitty chewed and swallowed. "Oh, it was just a misunderstanding. Something about Lockheed being a threat."

"Lockheed?" the Professor was surprised.

"I guess 'Star has never been introduced to the dragon?" Cable asked.

"I guess not. He did take it pretty seriously, though," Kitty thought, and then resumed eating her cereal. "Is he usually quick to anger?"

"Usually he's amazingly serious and imperturable, and stoic to a fault, but depending on how the other person reacts .." mused Cable. "I'll have a talk with him."

"I mean, he wasn't horrid to me or anything .." protested Kitty.

"I'll do it anyway. That one has to be more careful," explained Cable. "He's run into combat situations in a rage before, though he's been better about it lately. A reminder can't hurt him, at least."

Kitty could swear that Jubilee was about to move and say something, but instead, she paused, and took a heaping spoonful of Sugar Bombs instead. The chewing and crunching sounded more forced, however.

"I don't think I've ever sat down and analyzed him," Xavier wondered, "That is, I haven't gotten to know the boy. Most of your other charges were students of mine at one point, Nathan, but I confess, Shatterstar is still a mystery to me."

"Join the club then, Professor."

The two men both chuckled, and the Professor then retired to his duties. Cable left to check on his team, leaving the two girls with an empty box of cereal.

* * *

"Wow. I never eat that stuff anymore," sighed Kitty, "Moira's a health nut."

"You mean you were able to sneak a box past Jean?" Jubilee's eyes widened. "This box is Bobby's -- otherwise it'd be oatmeal or something."

"Oh, Jean wasn't around then. It was just after the Phoenix thing occurred, or so they tell me."

"Oh, okay. I'm surprised sometimes that the guys can keep everything like that straight."

"Me too."

Neither girl wanted to get up and put the bowls in the sink. Then Jubilee tried balancing her spoon on her nose.

"Say, why aren't you with the other X-Men? Don't they have a practice session coming up?"

Jubilee sighed, causing the spoon to fall to the floor and Kitty to giggle momentarily.

"Yeah, yeah, laugh it up, Pryde. Anyways, Prof said that since I haven't worked with the Danger Room for about a year, and bein' that today's a harder session than most, I should probably sit out until the next one." She then slid down to the floor in pursuit of the spoon. "Wolvie might do double-duty, and I might join him, though."

"Huh. That sucks. The Professor never let me train unsupervised in there either, when I was your age. I had to convince him that I'd program it so that I wouldn't get hurt."

"Tell me about it .. well, except the programming part. Found it!"

She leapt up, brandishing the metallic quarry, and dropped it into the bowl with a click and a thud. "Yeah, Prof can be a real pain, sometimes." She then looked over at the older girl.

"Say, what did go on in the Danger Room last night, anyways? I heard an alarm and went running downstairs like mad. You had us all worried there."

"It was strange. All I remember was going through the Hand program that Logan..."

"Wolvie," Jubilee insisted.

"What? No! His name is Logan!!"

"It's Wolvie, now! He likes being called that!"

"Wolvie is a dog's name!"

"It's cool!"

"His name is Logan!"

"It's too serious! Nobody ever uses 'Logan' unless we have to tell Wolvie that his old black-ops teammate guy who he probably doesn't remember too well anyway died or wants him dead or something."

"All right, fine!" an exasperated Kitty gave up. "I was going through the program that 'Wolvie' set up. All of a sudden, Lockheed comes flying in the doors, and the next thing I knew, I see this guy with a sword hacking his way towards him."

"Sounds like 'Star, yep. Hacking through people, that's him." She sighed and shook her head.

Kitty looked at the younger girl warily, and continued.

"Anyways, he starts telling me that Lockheed is likely to betray and kill us all, and at one point I thought he was going to attack the both of us."

"Did you insult him or something?" pointed out Jubilee, resting her chin on her hand. "He's really big on honor and stuff, you know."

"Actually, that was probably it," replied Kitty, astonished. "How'd you guess?"

"He came with Ev and me when we saw Phantom Menace. Kept on pointing out how the Jedi weren't as honorable in battle as they said -- like retreating when they should have fought the Sith. He really liked that Darth Maul guy, though, and thought the ending was a crock."

"Wow."

"Yeah, I know! I mean, pretty boy Ewan MacGregor just so happens to get Liam Neeson's lightsabre and .."

"No, I mean Shatterstar. He went with you guys? He seems .. I don't know, guarded? .. reminds me a little of Bishop when he first arrived."

"You know, that's the weird thing. Both of them get along really well, which maybe isn't so weird after all. But everyone seems to think he's cold-blooded or something, like how the guys treated Wolvie when he first joined the X-Men." She scowled.

"Logan did mention it a few times," recalled the former X-Man, "He'd never admit that it bothered him, but you could tell sometimes, when he was on the back porch, smoking on one of those cigars and thinking to himself."

Jubilee nodded and paused for a moment, as if changing the direction of her thoughts.

"'Star does open up sometimes, depending on the people around. Even friendly. He let me borrow his quarter-staff once, when Bobby froze the N64."

"Wow."

"Yeah. I guess he felt sorry for keeping me from taking the chainsaw." Jubes added wistfully, "I really liked that N64."

Kitty patted Jubes on the back, who returned with a grateful smile.

"Something tells me that he doesn't trust many people, even around here," Kitty murmured.

"That's for sure, Pryde. They don't call ya a genius for nothin,' do they?" She grinned at her.

"Har har, Jubes." Kitty moved her elbow, and then felt a spot of .. gun grease on the table?

"Gross," she grumbled, pointing at it.

"Bishop was probably cleaning his guns again," inspected Jubilee. She then touched a nick mark on the table, and murmured a "Hmm .."

Kitty caught the mark and looked closely. "Knife? Serrated edge?" She looked at the younger girl, who nodded.

"Long blade .. at least 6 inches, I'd say," commented Jubilee, "You know, we pick up the oddest talents from hangin' with Wolvie."

"I don't know .. these look like they're from a sabre or something," Kitty responded absently, touching the marks. "They could even be Shatterstar's. He would carry a sabre."

"Ya don't say? Alien-guy on your mind, if you don't mind me wondering?"

Kitty turned to the teen, who was able to keep a perfectly innocent face. She sighed, because she used to be able to do the very same thing.

"Well, we were just talking about him before."

"Were," Jubilee said, adding the quotation-mark finger gestures for emphasis. "You mentioned him again."

"In that he was the most likely cause of cutting up the kitchen table," the older girl replied, slightly defensively. "If it was bubble gum, I'd be staring at you, you know."

"Just wondering is all, Pryde." Jubilee gave a curious stare.

"What now? I don't have bed head, do I?" She checked to make sure.

"Naw, nothing like that. Just that you and 'Star might make an interestin' pair."

"WHAT?"

"I said 'pair,' not 'couple.' Sheesh! Just that he must trust you, 'cause he didn't skewer or dice up Lockheed first. It means you could be in his good books, ya know. Not many people are." Kitty narrowed her eyes at Jubilee, who shrugged.

"He trusts you, too," Kitty pointed out.

"'Course. We hung out a couple times. I showed him where all the good arcades are in the shopping malls 'round here, and then introduced him to the gooey goodness of cheesy mall fries. He really likes them with jalapenos, you know, but he never actually buys any."

"Why not? I mean, at the mall, even Storm finds an excuse to have a batch of them. Scott probably has some too .. once in a blue moon, of course."

"Not sure. But he was willing to have some of mine, when I offered."

"Huh. I guess it's something like getting Logan to play volleyball with us."

"Wolvie."

"Yeah, yeah."

Jubilee debated whether to put the bowls in the sink or not, and it was then that she wondered, _I wonder what Bish an' 'Star were talking about, earlier._ She thought for a moment, then dismissed that train of thought. "Hey, it's Saturday! Want to see if any good 'toons are on?"

Kitty then grinned. "Race ya."

"You're on!"

Thunderous footsteps towards the den soon followed, the cereal bowls left forgotten for the morning.

"Hey, no fair runnin' through walls, Pryde! Ya don't see me blastin' them down, do ya?"

**-- _fin_ -- **


End file.
